The Secret Place
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Tag for 12.11, Regarding Dean. How do Sam and Dean keep going when so much bad happens? Where do they go to heal and gather their strength again? They've been to heaven and hell, had times when they didn't belong anywhere...but they've always had each other.


**For any of you guys interested in my music nerdiness, this is named for and inspired by "The Secret Place" by Phil Wickham, hope you enjoy!**

THE SECRET PLACE

The more time that goes by, the more they go through, the more they live side by side, the more the comfortable silences mean. It's not something they talk about. Wasn't something they were especially aware of. Just after a hunt the ride back to the bunker began to mean more and more.

They found they needed the miles and miles of lonely asphalt, the crooning tunes on the radio and the sleepy mumbled conversations that only one of them ever remembers. Bad coffee made up with overly sweet baked goods, powdered sugar dusting Baby's seats and annoying Dean to no end, not bothering Sam where it's on his collar because the younger Winchester is clocked out, left consciousness and responsibility up to his brother.

That's how they are now. Sam's head laying on his jack where he's got up against the window, white sugar sticky in the corners of his slack mouth and hardening on his shirt front. His hair fluttering with each breath where it lays scattered over his face, those big hands lay lax in his lap, snowy sugary fingermarks on his dark jeans where he'd wiped them.

Dean is trying to keep an eye on the road as he uses an already messy napkin to wipe the powdered sugar off the seats, the other hand holding a coffee cup and steering them. Sam would have a heart attack if he was awake right now. Dean smirks. Good thing he wasn't then.

Sam had been exhausted, Dean could tell. He'd intentionally stuffed his brother with warm sugar cake and decaf coffee before slipping in his Lynard Skynard cassette and lured his brother to sleep with Tuesday's Gone. It'd worked like a charm, like it always did and Dean smiles to himself glancing at Sam's face every few minutes.

He knows from the bags under Sam's eyes and the slight tremble to his whole body the last twenty-four hours had been excruciating for him, and Sam obviously hadn't taken care of himself. Oh well, that's what big brothers were for.

Sam stands close to him and Dean lets him, pushes closer too. Sam keeps glancing at him, keeps asking him things and Dean just goes along with it, God, that look of pure panic and heartbreak on Sam's face when he'd thought Dean hadn't been cured will never leave Dean's mind. And while it had been a good joke Dean will never forget, means more than the whole world to him. That he means that much to Sam.

Dean grins thinking back;

 _("We owe you one, a small one." Sam snarks to Rowena, and jesus, is it just Dean or does Sam really hate Rowena and Crowley like really really hate them?_

 _Dean smirks behind them and as Sam backs up and asks him how he is he waits for the perfect moment to throw that one back into his face. They climb into Baby and Dean makes a beeline for a bakery he REMEMBERS._

 _"So we owe Rowena?" He says, arching a brow at Sam and his brother is momentarily confused. "We owe Rowena a small one?"_

 _Recognition dawns over Sam's face and an easy smile stretches his lips. "Yeah, just a small one, can probably make it up to her with some wolf's bane or something like that."_

 _Dean whistles casually, "Your brother's life and wolf's band on the same line, way to get your message across Sam."_

 _Sam laughs but turns to clear up his words just in case Dean's feelings are really hurt..._

 _"I'm just kidding Sammy," Dean beats him to it, "...I probably deserve that and more after what me and Rowena did, oh but Sam, you should've seen your face...priceless."_

 _Sam purses his lips, "Yes, you said."_

 _And his obviously unamused face only seems to feed Dean's self-satisfaction._

 _"Get a life." He mumbles as Dean opens his mouth again._

 _Dean shuts up but is unable to stifle his snorting laugh and Sam looks out the window to hide his unintended smile.)_

Now Sam's soft, rhythmic breaths and Dean's heart sound at the same time and damnit that is so cheesy, but Dean's just not going to think about it too much. The radio is turned down to just a mere hum more to keep Sam asleep that Dean awake because honestly Dean feels like he's been sleeping for years.

He knows the after affects of the spell is probably going to catch up with him sooner or later, but right now he feels pretty good. He taps his thumb against the steering wheel, lets his eyes take in everything in the world around him. Part of his love for Baby and the open road was getting to know so much of the country. Name the state and county and Dean could probably tell you something about it.

"Dean," Sam whines sleepily, "Stop it." Dean freezes, the beating of his thumb on the steering wheel coming to a halt and seriously, how did Sam even hear that?

Dean rolls his eyes and silently mouths Sam's words back to him. _Dean. Stop it._

"Stop." Sam says without opening his eyes. And really okay, it's disgusting how well Sam knows him.

Dean sighs, Sam is absolutely no fun.

Sam takes a deep sighing breath when Dean doesn't do anything else and shifts, snuggling further into his seat. Dean just shakes his head smiling at his sleeping brother, gives the middle finger to a driver who pulls out in front of him since he can't beep the horn with Sam asleep beside him.

Sam still stirs, his eyes opening into little slits licking his lips and smacking them when he tastes the remnants of the sugar. "Careful Dean." He admonishes in a sleepy whisper tossing his head from side to side trying to get comfortable again, and Dean knows he won't even remember any of this.

"I got it," he says back anyways and Sam settles back into sleep with his brother's response, face turned towards Dean, reassured he's still in control.

Dean huffs a laugh and decides next time he's beeping the horn...really he knows he won't. Won't let anything interrupt these moments of peace. The times when he and Sam come together and make somewhere ordinary special to them. Makes someplace feel safe and right, and warm and endearing in a way no else has been able to do for them.

No one knows when and where it will be, they don't even realize they do it. But when they need time and space to reassure and heal each other—to rejuvenate, to grow and process from whatever they've been through recently—they build up this wall around themselves. It's a few words, a look, the way one stays awake and aware while the other sleeps peacefully, the only way they know how to get real, deep sleep.

They don't know where it is, they don't know how they find it, they don't know how they create it, just that somehow when they need it, it's always there...and that's what makes it so precious, so sacred; their secret place.

...

Sam is deep asleep when they get home, but when Dean shakes him he wakes refreshened. His brother looks like hell, much to Sam's chagrin, with darkness under his eyes, and a tired slump to his shoulders. His smile is sincere though, and when Sam joins him to get their bags out of the trunk Dean pulls the 'NO' post it note off the grenade launcher and sticks to Sam's forehead before disappearing up the stairs with his bag and the trash from their bakery stop at the beginning of their journey home.

Sam grins and grabs his own bag, peeling the paper off his face while making his way up the stairs. He can hear Dean already knocking around in his room, two thumps signaling Dean kicking off his boots, slammed bathroom door telling Sam it's a shower his brother has been thinking about for the last couple of hours while he slept away.

Sure enough the shower turns on before Sam even makes it to his room. He kicks off his own shoes and leaves his bag on the floor going to the kitchen in hunt for something for their dinner. The bunker is dark and cold from the days they've been gone. He flips light switches on in the kitchen and the hallway so Dean doesn't break a leg getting there like he almost had. (He's admittedly not the most graceful person.)

He opens the fridge hunting food, uncaps a jug of milk and nearly passes out from the fumes...if the fridge didn't have a door there would be rats and cobwebs in the shelves he's sure. There's some granola on the island from his breakfast before they left for the witch hunt but that's about it.

He sighs and starts to brew some coffee, there wasn't much off that left either, there wasn't much of anything. Dean is making enough noise for a herd of elephants, Sam wonders momentarily if he's fallen on his face the noise stops so suddenly. He steps out of the kitchen into the hallway and listens momentarily.

"Dean?" He waits a moment for an answer. "Everything alright?"

His brother appears in answer, slightly out of breath and looking annoyed. Hair wet and t-shirt damp around the neck from absorbing the excess water, jeans with no belt looking like they're about to fall off, hems falling over his socked feet and brushing the ground with a 'swishing' sound as he walks.

"Dude, where the hell is my phone, I can't find it anywhere."

Sam's heart stutters to a halt right in his chest. He can't remember. Why can't he remember his phone being broken? Sam thought this was over...he'd slept, he'd laughed and smiled with Dean, he had let it all go. Allowed his heart to fully rest in relief that he'd done his job well, he'd saved Dean. But he hadn't, he'd missed something somewhere, somehow oh god...how much time did Dean have left now?

"Sammy!"

Sam blinks, feels the tightness in his chest dissipate a little as his vision clears to see Dean's bright green eyes. He realizes he was hyperventilating. He allows himself a few more gasping breaths while Dean's mouth moves with words whatswrongareyouokaysammythehell?snapoutofit.

"Sorry," he gasps. "Sorry, just you should remember. You broke your phone, you should remember..."

"Sammy woah," Dean says, his hands a soothing weight on his shoulders. "Just breathe. It's okay...I'm fine."

Sam pauses and Dean uses it to drag him into the kitchen and push him into a seat. "I'm okay, remember Rowena said I might not remember much from during the spell."

Oh.

Sam brings his fingers to his temples to rub roughly at them. "Sorry." He rasps again. And now he remembers Rowena's last words to Dean, the implication she'd told him something she had no desire for him to remember. It was okay Dean didn't remember, better probably. He lets out a big stale breath. The one that had probably gotten stuck and given him his panic attack.

"Okay," he says shakily, "Okay, yeah." Wow, this is embarrassing. "You broke it somehow, your phone, I don't know...I'll get you another one next time we go out."

Dean sends him a reassuring smile. "It's okay Sam, it was scary I know." Meaning the whole ordeal, doesn't really care anything about his phone

Sam just laughs nervously, swiping a hand over his mouth. "We don't have anything here to eat," he says to distract Dean.

His brother frowns, sees right through him of course. He rests his case though. Sam can see he's letting it go. And Sam is thankful he really is, knows Dean can see how hellish that last day had been for him. Knows Dean realizes it's going to take more than a few hours of sleep for him to get over it fully.

"Don't worry Sammy boy," Dean drawls, turning his back towards him and walking towards the fridge, "I've always got a back up plan."

Sam raises his eyes brows and watches bemused as Dean frowns into the empty fridge.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up." Dean returns, going up onto his tiptoes reaching for something in the topmost cabinet.

"Need a hand there, shorty?" Sam snarks, watching from his seat.

"Your...short," Dean grunts with the stretch of trying to reach.

"Oh wow, intelligent Dean."

"Coming from the fully grown man who can't fix his own supper or buy his own groceries."

"What can I say? My big brother spoils me so." He says, batting his lashes and laughing at Dean's disgusted look.

Dean grabs a stool and gets up on it, ducking his head so he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling. Sam watches in awe as he brother pulls out something that looks edible.

"Let's see what we got here..." Dean says. "Got some pop tarts, know you like those." Sam's on his feet by now and standing by Dean grabbing the pop tarts from him and peering at them and trying to find an expiration date as his stomach growls.

Dean smirks, "Don't worry Samantha their still within the expiration date, just put them there last week."

"You mean you have ANOTHER secret food stash I hadn't found yet?" Sam's asks incredulously, eyebrows disappearing into his hair.

"Yep." Dean says, letting the p 'pop', satisfaction clear in his voice.

"What else you got up there?" Sam asks through a full mouth.

"Hey," Dean says sharply, "Save some from me."

"I will," Sam whines, "What else?"

"Uhm," Dean says, grimacing as his hand disappears into the dark cabinet, "There better not be any spiders back here...okay looks like I've got some chips ahoy, and some macaroni and cheese."

"No milk." Sam says flatly. "Give." He demands, and Dean hands down the chips ahoy.

"Oh wait," Dean says brightly. "Ramen noodles."

"Better then nothing." Sam allows, even though he swears to Dean the preservatives in Ramen will be the cause of his death.

Dean hands down the bags of hard noodles and then climbs down from his stool. Sam puts the kettle on to boil and Dean puts the crackly noodles into bowls. They each grab a fork, a paper towel and a coffee cup.

Sam tries not to think too hard about their meal. Coffee and ramen noodles. They'd probably both be dead in the morning. He thinks Dean smiling across the table means more than anything and he'd gladly eat ramen with coffee for the rest of his life as long as Dean is with him.

Dean is giving him that toothy, childish grin and slurping noodles up noisily the broth splashing all over the table and him.

 _("Gross Dean, cut it out."_

 _"C'mon Sammy you know you wanna. Dare ya, bet you can't beat me."_

 _"Oh really?"_

 _"Really, you haven't had any practice."_

 _"Sit around sucking noodles a lot, do you?" Sam snarks._

 _"Shut up and slurp, loser." Dean says and Sam can't even hardly do it for laughing._

 _Dean wins.)_

In this moment it's absolute peace and Sam sighs in contentment down to his very soul. The wounds and scars reopened from the last days finally fully scab back over. He feels his heart finally truly lighten and he lets himself bask in the warm familiarity of Dean, his smile, his laugh, his, in Sam's opinion, poor humor. He simply is and Dean simply is...they simply are.

And in this comfortable, effortless bubble Sam finally finds what he missed so much while Dean wasn't himself. It's something only Dean brings to him, it's something only Dean's company makes. It's a combination of their humors, a mix of their emotions...the perfect balance of comfort Sam gives to Dean and Dean gives to Sam. It's a place Sam silently looks for and relishes in, walls that surround them with protection, devotion that cradles them in love.

It's a natural transition to Sam's bedroom, Dean stretches himself out comfortably on the bed, pressing play on whatever they had been watching last. Sam comes out of the shower to find the tv is lulling Dean into a trance like stage between wakefulness and sleep, he smiles with a full heart as he towel dries his hair and pads down the hall and into the library for some scotch.

The last ingredient for sending Dean Winchester off to a long night's sleep.

Dean hums in approval when Sam hands him a crystal glass and holds it up while Sam pours. Sam watches the amber liquid filling the sparkling glass and thinks of everything they've been through in the past twenty-four hours, thinks of how he wishes he could forget it all. Wishes he could just wipe it completely from his mind.

The mind numbing panic. The paralyzing fear of losing Dean, the helplessness of not being able to do nothing. The crushing sorrow of watching Dean forget everything that made them, that defined them, that made them...brothers. God, he just wants to forget.

Dean glances at him as Sam finishes pouring his own drink and he clinks their glasses together.

"To forgetting." Sam murmurs, a frown between his eyes brows.

Dean cocks his head to one side and smiles softly, somehow, like always, knowing what Sam means, what he needs.

"To remembering." He contradicts, letting Sam know, _so glad I'm here, so glad I remember. Even if it hurts, even if all the blood and regret and guilt makes me crazy sometimes._

They throw back their shots and Sam can feel the last bit of tension ease from his brother's body beside him on the mattress and Dean is out like a light. Sometimes his eyes open to peer at Sam as if to make sure he's there, or he shifts with a noise from the tv but mostly he rests. Completely safe and trusting of Sam, knows little brother has got it handled right now. Knows he can let go.

And that's the place Sam was talking about. It's a spot in the middle where they meet. Sometimes Sam needs Dean, sometimes Dean needs Sam. Most of the time they're both needful of the other's presence, moral support and the general assurance that they're still, in fact, alive.

It's a silent agreement, a place where they are no matter what equals and unvoiced, but undeniably, the other's everything. Both the cause of their sanity and the insanity of their lives wrapped up into one person; each other. The heaven and the hell, the sun and the thunder, the sense and the nonsense, the laughter and the tears...the life and the death.

It's an unknown rendezvous between them. The secret place.

the end.

Okay currently giving myself chills...

Hope you guys love this as much as I did writing it! PLZ PRETTY PLZ LEAVE ME A REVIEW!;)

(And plz don't get tired of my asking for reviews, I'm leaving now I promise, bye.)


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